


Something Stupid

by thepointsdonotmatter



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Din Djarin Needs a Hug, Even when I try to give Mando happiness there's always a lil angst in there too, Fluff and Angst, Insecure Din Djarin, M/M, Post 2x01, Touch-Starved Din Djarin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:49:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28258737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepointsdonotmatter/pseuds/thepointsdonotmatter
Summary: After slaying the krayt dragon, Din and the Marshal celebrate.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Cobb Vanth
Comments: 5
Kudos: 149





	Something Stupid

It almost goes perfectly. A tooth grazes Din’s leg when he flies out from the krayt dragon’s maw. He doesn’t notice in the moment, but the Marshal lets out a low whistle later, when he’s giving the armor back. 

Din looks down and sees his pant leg caked with blood. “Beats being dead, I guess.” 

He tests putting more weight on the leg, winces. It feels like he tweaked his ankle, too. 

“You’re probably sick of my mug by now,” the Marhsal says, “but I could put you up, take a look at that leg.” 

Din considers him. He could leave – it's nothing he can’t stitch up on his own – but in the absence of adrenaline, the exhaustion’s sharp. His back aches. He’s drenched in guts and sand and sweat. 

Most of all, it’s how warm the other man's smile is, like it’s really no bother. 

He nods. “Lead the way, Marshal.” 

“Call me Cobb,” he says, winking. “Son of a gun as crazy as you’s earned that right.” 

\-- 

The kid drinks from a cup of broth and watches Cobb tend to Din’s leg. It’s not a deep wound, luckily, but it’s long, ending just below his knee. The kid waddles over partway through, and Din sighs. “No – hey, stay over there –” 

He doesn’t listen, of course, so Din reaches down to pick him up, holding him in the crook of his arm. 

Cobb looks up from where he’s knelt in front of him, raising an eyebrow. “Really?” 

“Just focus on making the stitches even,” Din says, but there’s no heat behind it. 

Cobb smiles roguishly, the corners of his eyes creasing, and Din mouth goes dry. Cobb doesn’t look away, and neither does he. He’s acutely aware of Cobb’s calloused fingers on his skin. 

The kid babbles, shifting in his grip. Din awkwardly bounces him in his lap, looks away. Cobb clears his throat and goes back to his stitches. 

They don’t talk as Cobb finishes up, fixing a bandage over the dressing, but Din’s heart won’t stop pounding. He thinks Cobb’s face is a little flushed, though it’s hard to tell in the dim lighting. 

“Thanks,” Din says. He keeps his voice low – the kid’s starting to fall asleep in his arms. 

“Anytime,” Cobb replies. He sits back on his haunches. Din’s not the most experienced lover, but he can still read the intent in Cobb’s posture, gaze. He knows what will happen next.

“You have a spare room for the kid?” he asks. 

Cobb nods and helps him up. He keeps a hand on his flank and Din doesn’t brush him off, even though they both know Din can walk on his own. 

Tucking the kid into a bed meant for an adult human feels mildly ridiculous. Still, Din makes sure the pillow is snug under the kid’s head, draws the blanket over him. He scans the room. 

“If there’s any trouble, we’ll hear,” Cobb reassures him, stepping closer. 

He knows what will happen, but not how to lead, so he’s grateful when Cobb steers him to the adjoining room, shutting the door behind them. It’s been a long time – longer than Din would care to admit. And even then, he’s only known alleyway fucks: quick and transactional, hands running over rough outlines of bodies, both him and the stranger knowing it'd be too dangerous to linger.

He only has a moment to take in Cobb’s living space, before the other man nudges him towards the bed. The back of Din’s knees hit the edge of the frame and he sits, sweating as Cobb kneels in front of him. 

“You don’t have to–” 

Cobb smirks. “Have to? I _want_ to.” 

Din exhales around a shaky laugh. “Okay.” 

Cobb undos his pants, pulls them and his undergarments down enough to show his dick. Din flushes: he’s already hard, and Cobb hasn’t even touched him yet. 

His mind goes completely blank as Cobb takes him into his mouth. He gasps, hips jerking. Cobb’s tongue swirls around the head of his dick, and Din groans, loud, messy. He tangles a hand in Cobb’s hair before he can help it. Part of him suspects Cobb wouldn’t mind if Din manhandled him, pulled his head forward, but he doesn’t – he can’t. Cobb runs a hand over Din’s trembling knee, reaches up to fondle his balls. 

Din bites his lip as Cobb takes him in deeper, hot and wet— 

“Stop, stop, I’m gonna—” 

Cobb pulls away, mouth swollen, a line of spit running down his chin. Din nearly comes from the sight alone. He runs a thumb over Cobb’s lips and Cobb stares back up at him, eyes half-lidded. 

Cobb unbuckles his own pants and Din moves back on the bed, gripping Cobb’s hips as he straddles him, careful of his bad leg. Cobb doesn’t go near his helmet, but he does run a hand under his armor, along the planes of his stomach and chest. 

Din’s breath stutters. “Cobb...” 

“Yeah,” Cobb murmurs. He reaches for the oil on the shelf next to the bed. 

He clenches his jaw when Cobb presses in with a grunt, filling him up. Cobb must feel him tense, because he stops, rubbing Din’s hip. 

“I’m fine,” Din gasps, grabbing his shoulders. “Just give me a moment...” 

“Christ, you're tight,” Cobb groans. There’s a vein pulsing on his forehead. 

He braces himself above Din. The first couple thrusts are slow, their bodies learning the rhythm. Then Cobb adjusts the angle, and Din sees stars. He cries out, and Cobb starts cursing, hoists Din’s good leg up against his shoulder and fucks him harder, faster. The bed creaks like crazy, headboard rattling against the wall. 

Din comes, back arching, and Cobb follows soon after, collapsing on top of him. 

It takes embarrassingly long for Din's brain to start working again. He jerks his head toward the door, breathes a sigh of relief when the kid isn’t there. The kid had almost choked Cara to death over a mere arm wrestling match; Din can’t imagine what he’d do if he'd somehow gotten in and saw Cobb lying on top of him. 

When they disentangle, start cleaning themselves off, Din retreats into his mind. Reality’s setting in again, and he thinks about how awkward he must have been, how the sex didn’t last that long, whether it was as good for Cobb as it was for him.

He can hear the distant roar of a sandstorm outside. It would pass through the town, then sink out of memory, because that was the way of things.

“We’ll be out of your hair at first light,” he says. “Imps are after the kid. If I stay, it’s putting the town in danger.” 

“And where will you go, once the kid’s safe?” Cobb asks, lounging back on the bed. 

Din stares at him. “Is this a trick question?” 

Cobb laughs, but his eyes are kind. “One day,” he says. He leans forward. “One day, I’m going to kiss you, Mando.”


End file.
